Of Misfits and Fighters
by huff-slyn-dor-claw
Summary: AU. The Wizarding World according to blood purity rather than house. This story follows the life of a muggle-born genius, a mess-haired half-blood, a ginger blood traitor, and a struggling pureblood. It is through them that defines what it really means to be a great wizard. Rated T.
1. Little Magic Ability

_Wizarding Governments Through the Centuries:_

_A Student's Guide to Today's Society and Ways of Life_

_As a product of today's wizarding world, you are most likely familiar with the way out society works, and the theories that uphold and collaborate with it. But, it has not always been this way. In fact, there was once a whole different way of living before this new age. This informational pamphlet will walk you through the history and how this efficient and effective way of today's wizarding world came to be. _

_In the 9__th__ century, four of the greatest wizard of their time came to together to change the future of wizards and witches forever. They were: Helga Hufflepuff, Godric Gyffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, and, our founding Father, Salazar Slytherin. Together, they proposed the idea of creating a school for students of magic ability where they would learn how to master their capabilities and become the finest wizards the world had yet to see. Upon creating the revolutionary idea, a conflict has arisen between the four of them: which sort of wizards should be accepted into their school. Excluding Slytherin, the other three founders wanted all types of students; muggle-borns, half-bloods and purebloods alike, for the three did not see the threats muggle-borns and half-bloods posed on the purity in the wizarding community._

_ Fortunately, Slytherin did, and insisted on making the school for purebloods only. He knew it was right for the wizarding community. Although it took much persuading and action from the other founder, Slytherin finally did get his wish. So, it was decreed that the new school, Hogwarts, would be a place for purebloods to come and learn and also strengthen and purify their race. Now, muggle-borns and half-bloods were not forgotten or abandoned, they set up smaller schools on the outskirts of the wizarding town, Hogsmeade, that all young wizards live in and as they still do today. _

_This went on for centuries, until the year of the Great War. The Great War was a dark time around a century ago when muggle-born and half-bloods questioned their place in society. Because of this extremist and negative way of thinking, the purebloods did the heroic act of taming it, but the cost of thousands of lives. In addition, a new blood class of wizards erupted, the blood-traitors and a new social system and contract had formed, one that still used as of this day. As a result of all the chaos, rivalry, and backstabbing, Hogwarts was no more. The purebloods created a new school fro themselves: The Academy of Authentic Wizardry._

_To ensure that this type of rebellion would never occur again, the descendants of the Slytherin family created a set of laws, The Purification Laws, that all wizards and witches were to abide by. Because of these consequences of the Great War, our world has never been a safer and more protected of purity and blood class. It is these laws that make our government, society, and daily lives peaceful and successful._

_Here is some of the terminology that you may find useful when reading this information pamphlet._

_Blood Classes_

_ (in order of social rank)_

_Purebloods — Wizards and witches of a lineages where magic is prominent on both sides of the descendant. Many are descendants or distant relatives of the founders and are excellent examples of wizards that should be followed by other classes._

_Blood-traitors – Purebloods who turned their backs against the right views and ideas of race superiority. They are a product of the Great War. Although it is rarely seen, blood-traitors may work their way up to the status of purebloods._

_Half-Bloods – Wizards and witches who have one parent that is either a muggle-born or half-blood and the other either muggle-born, half-blood or pureblood. They pose a manageable threat to our society, therefore are associated with caution._

_Muggle-borns – Wizards and witches with muggle parents. These pose the most dangerous threat in contamination of the pure race of wizards in out world. They are known to have little magic ability. _

_The Purification Laws_

_1. In order to be admitted to The Academy of Authentic Wizardry, the attendee must ne pureblood. No exceptions._

_2. Intermarriage within the four blood classes of wizards is strictly prohibited._

_3. Procreating, or the process of, within the four different blood classes in strictly prohibited._

_4. Inter-housing within the four blood classes is strictly prohibited._

_5. Each blood class is mandated to follow their own rules of conduct that their own rules of conduct that their blood class leaders are enforcing. _

_6. None of the previous laws stated above or any rules on any of the codes of conduct may be revised, dismissed, ignored, or exchanged without the consent of the lading pureblood family._

_7. Any wizard or witch that fails to cooperate with any of the Purification Laws or Codes of Conduct rules, and is reported, will be in the hands of the security officials._

Hermione's eyes scanned the pamphlet fervently, taking in all the information she possible could. She tried to remember the last time she came across something new to read, it weeks perhaps. Hermione was so engrossed in the artificial words, that she forgot what she was supposed to be doing: scrubbing her boss's floor. Although she memorized the laws and codes by heart, it was the history that caught her attention. She was reading the last few lines when she suddenly heard the footsteps of her boss come into earshot. Hermione quickly slipped the folded paper into the waist of her skirt uniform, gathered the bucket and brush, and stood up. She barely had time to turn around before he grabbed her by the collar and pulled her into his chest.

"What were you doing there, mudblood?" he whispered down her neck. Hermione scrunched her nose at the smell of firewhiskey.

"Nothing. I was just finishing up," Hermione replied, she was used to this sort of treatment. She could feel his hand starting to creep up inside her shirt.

"What was that?" he demanded. Her skin burned at his touch, and yet his fingers still snaked up her side.

"I was just finishing up, _Master Goyle_," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

Goyle's hand soon found the seam of her bra, and eyed her hungrily. Hermione quickly pushed it out. Goyle snickered.

"We don't want last week's encounter to happen again, do we?" Hermione shut her eyes closed at the memory. Goyle had violated law #3 of the Purification Laws and that it was the second worst day of her life. That was all she chose to remember about it.

"Of course not, master Goyle," she said, her brain seething with fury.

"Good." He threw Hermione off him and reached in his pocket for a bag of money and thrusted it at her.

"Now get out of here, mudblood." Goyle growled.

Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She raced out the door and down the grand marble staircase, making sure no one was watching her. When no one was, she disapperated.

A few moments later, she reappeared in her room. Her three roommates were most likely eating the last of their dinners in the hall, so she usually used this time to get dressed and clear her mind. It was a small room, big enough for two bunk beds and one dresser in which the girls kept all their clothes and belongings in. There was also a small window in the corner, which barely let in any sunlight or fresh air. Hermione slept in the bottom left bunk, the one with the thin, dingy plaid sheet and a lump for a pillow. The top bunks had the nicer pillows and blankets seeing as the younger girls slept in them. The conditions in which they lived in were horrible, but their company made it tolerable.

Hermione suddenly remembered about the paper. She pulled it out of her waist and hid it under her sheet for further examination. She undressed into her nightgown and laid out her uniform for ironing in the morning. Hermione was on her way out to eat her meal, if there was any left, when she heard a sudden thudding on the window.

"Open up it's me," said an all-too familiar voice. She ran to the window and pulled back the drapes and slid up the glass.

"Harry!" Hermione said, enthralled that her friend had come to see her.

"Hey. Where is everyone?" Harry noticed her roommates were gone, for they usually were around.

Hermione jerked her chin up, "They're eating right now. What brings you here?"

Harry shrugged, "Dunno, just checking up on you. How've you been?"

Hermione tensed up a bit. No, she wasn't doing fine but she'd rather not admit it to Harry. It was her issue to tackle, not his.

"I've—been good," she said, faking a smile. "It's just—" she debated about telling him but decided against it. "How about yourself?" she hastily transitioned.

Harry took the time to study his friend's face. Her eyes lacked their usual confidence and she seemed distraught, something she rarely was. It could've only meant one thing; Hermione was far from angry, she was infuriated.

After a few silent moments, Harry said, "What happened at Goyle's?"

From the corner of Hermione's eye, she could see Harry's knuckles turn white from clutching the window pane. She forgot how well Harry knew her. I was almost impossible to hide anything.

She sighed, irritated. "Harry, I can take care of myself, thank you."

"Hermione…" Harry warned. His emerald eyes were starting ignite with fury.

"I'm fine," Hermione said curtly. She knew that he could see right through her, but there was nothing her could do about the situation.

Harry shook his head. "Quit the job." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I can't! No one else is hiring my blood class!" she said. "Besides, Goyle's so thick that he hasn't realized he's paying me more than he should." Hermione have a hallow laugh.

"It's not worth it, Hermione!" Harry urged.

"I am a muggle-born! I don't have a choice!" she breathed, which spurred another awkward silence.

"Well, if you still adamant about leaving, at least give him hell about it. Secretly. I've see you do things with a wand I never though possible."

Usually Hermione would blush under the praise, but the comment irritated her more.

"Honestly Harry, it's like you purposely forget that I'm not a half-blood," she said, trying her best to bite back the bitterness.

Harry dropped his gaze to his knees. She was right, as she always was. He had forgotten that muggle-borns weren't allowed to bring their wands to work. It left Hermione defenseless.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled guiltily. Hermione nodded in acceptance. "Speaking of which, where exactly _is_ your wand?" he asked, peering over her should. It almost always was lying in her bed.

"It was confiscated," she said acidly.

"What? How so?" he questioned.

"Evidently, I was performing 'too advanced magic' for my 'skill level'," It was never clear to Harry how Hermione knew so much about magic when her "classes" were barely teaching simple summoning spells. But the thought of Hermione defying the system made him smirk.

"So, what did you do?"

"I was trying—and succeeding—to heal Isabel's burn," she said. Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed.

"Well, when do you get it back?"

"On Friday," Hermione was counting the days, by the hour. She turned her attention to the clock on the wall, the hands read that it was almost 9 o'clock.

"Is that the time? Sorry Harry, it's nearly curfew," Hermione said sadly, "I've got to check in."

Harry nodded, "So do I, I'll see you around then," he then gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself." Harry left the window and started is half mile journey home.

Hermione waved goodbye and shut the window. Then, she went upstairs to join the others. The eating hall was scattered with late-night wizards who were finishing eating or simply did not want to go to sleep. Among them was Hermione's good friend Elizabeth who waved "hello" and continued to chat away with Colin Creevy. Hermione smiled and made her way to the attendance room, where she should've been 10 minutes ago. It was located at the end of a long hallway, one she didn't take time walking through. To her, it reminded her of the hallways seen in mental institutions, they were cold and weary. She picked up her pace, not wanting to linger longer than usual. She reachde the end and gently twisted the doorknob, and walked into the room. Seeing that she was late, once again, Mrs. Burbage was on her case.

"Late again, Ms. Granger?" said Mrs. Burbage, looking over her newspaper. Hermione dipped her head in apology.

"Sorry, Mrs. Burbage. I just was busy," Hermione replied, grabbing a quill from her desk politely.

The blood class leader made a disapproving noise. "Well, we are _all_ busy here. That's the third time this month."

"I know, I promise I'll be better about it. I won't be late anymore," reasoned Hermione, desperately. She didn't want _more_ privileges taken away. She hastily scribbled her signature on the name chart.

"We will see, Ms. Granger," remarked Mrs. Burbage. Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," she said and smiled grateful, making her way out. As she did so she yawned and decide that it was time to turn in.

By the time she reached her sleeping quarters, the rest of her roommates were settling down and climbing up or into their blankets. Hermione's eyes flickered towards the window, just making sure that Harry hadn't come back. But as she did so, her heart sank a bit. She was so lucky to have a friend like him to talk to, even though they weren't supposed to associate with each other, and she regretted quarreling with him earlier. She promised herself that she would make it up to him the next time she saw him, whenever that would be. She let out a deep sigh and ducked into her bed

As she pulled on her measly sheet, she felt her hand press against something rough; the paper. Excitement built up inside her chest, she could finally examine the words at her leisure, and there was no disgusting Goyle to dictate her.

"Penelope," Hermione asked her roommate, who was braiding her hair, "may I borrow your wand? Just for the night?"

Penelope looked at Hermione skeptically. Penelope always had an issue with Hermione, whenever Hermione would learn something new or practice "illegal" spells, Penelope would always threaten to tell Mrs. Burbage. In fact, that was the very reason why Hermione's wand was somewhere hidden away in a drawer at the very moment.

"I just need it as a light, that's all." assured Hermione, giving a light laugh.

Penelope thought it over more a few minutes more before giving lending Hermione her wand.

"If it gets taken away, I going to tell Mrs. Burbage about that boy that keeps visiting at the window," Penelope threatened.

"Sure, as long as I get to tell her about your "meetings" with the ginger boy" Hermione shot back, 's eyes narrowed but she said nothing more.

Satisfied, Hermione slip out the pamphlet and began to read the lines over an over. She stopped at the line, 'they are known to have little magic ability'. What began as anger turned into determination.

"We'll see about that," she whispered to herself, as she tucked the paper under her pillow. The clock read midnight, and Hermione brain was wide awake.


	2. Things Are Happening

**Hello! I just wanted to say how happy I am with your reviews and follows! thank you so very much! oh, and I'm not, nor ever will I be, J.K. Rowling. just sayin'. okay enjoy!**

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_Things Are Happening_

As Harry walked home that night, he noticed that the sun was setting earlier. Winter was approaching. Although Harry's favorite season was summer, he didn't mind winter as much as he should. Granted the nights were unbearable at times and it was getting darker sooner, but it was the sights that made it truly remarkable. The brilliantly pure snow would cap the shops and the paved streets and it even brought the smallest of beauty to the pureblood mansions. Half-bloods couldn't afford putting festive lights about their modest quarters, but the one thing they did appreciate about the pure bloods, was their taste in such décor. And if one were to pay very close attention, one would hear the faint tinkle of voices, singing. But the Christmas season was far away, seeing that it was barely October.

After a half mile of walking, Harry finally reached the region in which his blood class lived in. As a product of the Great War, each blood class lived in their own regions and each region was of equal distance to the Hogsmeade city and of equal distance to each other, it was just that the pure bloods lived more elevated.

The sound an owl's flapping snapped Harry out of his thoughts. He looked up and spotted his snowy owl, Hedwig swooping down towards him. Reflexively, Harry stuck out his arm and Hedwig landed gracefully on it. She clicked her beak appreciatively before nipping him gently on the ear.

"Let's get inside. Unless you want to stay out here," Harry offered.

Hedwig gave a small chirp and flew off of Harry's arm and to, well wherever owls like her go. Harry shrugged and made his way towards the half-blood home. But instead of entering through the front doors, Harry went around the building to the back. The room that he shared was on the second floor, the third window to the left. Luckily, some of his roommates were in there, he could make out the outlines of bodies from the light of the lamp. Harry took out his wand and used it to slide the window open and looked both ways making sure the area was clear.

"Hey!" Harry called as softly as he could, "Dean! Seamus!"

There was a small commotion within the room and Dean's head poked out of the window.

"Blimey, Harry! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Dean called back as he swiftly scanned the area, checking for any 'security officials'. Snatchers loved to come around this time of night.

Noticing Dean's unease, Harry started to feel edgy as well. "Sorry, didn't mean to. Just help me up."

The dark skinned boy left the window for the briefest of a moment and returned with his wand and a block of wood. Dean lowered the block from the second story with his wand and it landed with a faint thud. Harry knew the drill. He rushed over and hopped on, placing both feet firmly on the block. Harry nodded; their secret signal.

"Wingardium Leviosa," whispered Dean.

Slowly but steadily the wood block rose above the ground until it reached the window and hovered there. Harry caught his balance and lowered himself inside the room, sighing in relief. Dean flicked the wood block inside and shut the window tight.

"You really need to start being careful, Harry," Dean advised. He shoved the block under his bed to the very back. "You're lucky I was here."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry shuddered at how warm the room was, at least compared to outside, "Lucky we devised this plan," he joked, trying to lighten up the mood.

Harry expected to see a smiling Dean, but instead his roommate's face was quite the opposite. Dean looked apprehensive, his eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lip, which Harry replied with a questionable look. Dean shook his head, but reluctantly continued.

"Look, things are…happening. I can't explain it, but there's a sudden change. In the weather, in the atmosphere—" said Dean in a low voice.

Harry eyed Dean curiously. "Well for starters, it's fall. So of course, it getting colder—"

"People are disappearing, Harry."

Harry stared straight at the door, trying to absorb what Dean had just said.

"How do you mean?" Harry had a small hunch racking the back of his brain.

But before Dean could answer, the door burst open, causing both boys to jump. In the doorway, was a breathless Seamus, hands on knees and panting.

"Harry—Cattermole … coming—now," Seamus said between pants, "He's—angry."

Harry, who was sitting on his bed, stared at Seamus in dread. Dean gave Harry a foreboding expression.

"You better get your story straight. Cattermole's been cracking down bloody hard now."

With that, Dean and Seamus left the room, not wanting to watch the events that were to occur. On their way out, Harry could hear Mr. Cattermole's voice booming through out the corridor.

"Get out of my way!" he shouted. Harry heard a thud against the wall, signaling that his blood class leader pushed his friends aside. Harry braced himself for the worst.

Mr. Cattermole flung the door open and his eyes searched for Harry.

"I thought I heard you up here," Mr. Cattermole growled. He took a step forward, dangerously closing the gap between them.

"I'm surprised your hearing is as good as ever, sir. With all the yelling…" retorted Harry, who was discreetly trying to take a step back. Mr Cattermole, however, was too tired to respond to Harry's retort.

He pulled Harry by the ear with a hard grip, Harry winced in pain.

"Mr. Potter, do you realize how many times you have broken the curfew?" Harry shrugged, but even he was curious about the number.

"No, sir."

Mr. Cattermole clenched Harry's ear even tighter. "By my count this is the fourth time."

Surprised, Harry said, "Oh."

" 'Oh'? Potter, you are on very thin ice here. One more, and you will pay the consequences."

Harry was in so much pain that he though about prying Mr. Cattermole's hand off, he can certainly feel the blood starting to trickle down his neck.

"No supper," Mr. Cattermole yanked Harry's ear down for good measure and left without another word.

As soon as he left, the other boys quietly came back in from the opposite direction. Harry started to massage his ear and neck, when he realized something.

"What time is it?" he asked his roommates, wiping the back of his ear with his sleeve.

Seamus glanced at his battered watch. "Almost 10 o'clock. Why?"

"Duelling," Harry said simply, the boys immediately understood. "Are any of you going?"

They both shook their heads.

"I went last night, won a few sickles," Dean explained. Harry turned to Seamus.

"Went a few days ago, lost the damn match," he said grudgingly lifting the sleeve of his shirt to display a severe looking cut. "But I'll get 'em back next time."

"Who was he?" Harry knew a few competitors names, mainly because he was there at least once a week.

Seamus hadn't caught the wizards name or remembered the face, and maybe being a tad drunk afterwards didn't help.

"Dunno, but he's got pretty mean wandwork"

"Harry, maybe you shouldn't go, after what Cattermole said," Dean pointed out. "Why are you always out?"

The question caught Harry off guard, for him it was such common sense.

"Are you meaning to say that you'd rather stay here all day than be outside?" he asked incredulously.

"If it means not getting beat up everyday then, yeah," Dean defended. Seamus nodded his head in agreement. For a split second Harry thought about skipping this time, but a tug in his heart said that he had to, he needed the money.

"Sorry, but I've got to. That's my only income," said Harry, finally seeing why Hermione couldn't leave her job, and his heart tugged once more.

Seamus and Dean looked dismal, they had really wanted to stop their friend from leaving tonight. But they understood, so they clapped Harry on the back for good luck and watched him climb down and out their window.

Every time Harry would sneak to his 'night job', a sense of guilt would always situate in his chest. The thing about dueling was that it was an 'underground' activity. In fact, Harry was almost positive there was a rule against it in his codes of conduct. But nevertheless, small groups of wizards and witches, meet up every night far below Hogsmeade city to earn a few extra sickles or even galleons. Other than a few scams and sketchy beverages, there was one major flaw in night dwelling, nothing was off limits, meaning that wizards were injured and sometimes killed. Of course something like this would frighten Harry, but the blood classes that would compete didn't know a whole lot of dangerous spells, most spells casted were not that perilous. Once in a while, there would be a wizard or witch who did know some pretty damaging ones, you just hoped that you didn't have to face them.

But the most dangerous part about all this was being caught by Snatchers. Once someone would get caught by one, there is no telling what would happen next. Sometimes they disappeared for days, maybe weeks, or sometimes they never came back. But those were rare cases. So to avoid the Snatchers, some witch (Harry wasn't sure who, most likely a blood-traitor) created portkeys that took wizards to the Night Duels. The one Harry would grab was a spoon, it was only a few feet from his quarters.

Finally, Harry reached it and waited for it to glow. Sure enough, a few seconds later the spoon lit up and Harry quickly held onto it.

He spun for what felt like an eternity before landing firmly on the ground. The Night Duel seemed to be teeming with duelers tonight as Harry scanned the area. The room wasn't big on the outside, but once you'd step into it, it could easily fit around a hundred wizards. Harry walked over to the registration desk to enter his name into the draw.

"Name?" drawled a blond witch.

"Harry Potter, number 54," He replied. Harry had been stuck with this number since the day he joined.

The witch looked up and down her sheet, searching fro his number and his competitor's number. She lifted her quill when she found it.

"Okay, Mr. Potter. You are dueling number 106. Good luck," she said, scratching something next to his number.

Harry thanked her and went to sit at the waiting tables. When his number was called and the opposing number was called, they were to make their way onto the long stage and start. As Harry waited, he often thought of his wand skills and his chances of winning. Harry considered himself a decent challenger, not too hard, not too easy. It was his opponent whom he was always cautious about. A few minutes later he heard his number and walked towards the stage. He inhaled deeply, walked up the steps and waited for his opponent. Soon another wizard, blond and fit, filled the vacant space and nodded curtly at him.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted a husky voice somewhere offstage. Harry pointed his wand upward as did the other wizard.

"3, 2, 1. GO!"

With a flash of light the battle had begun. The opposing wizard hurled a Confringo Curse his direction, to which Harry blocked straightaway.

"Stupefy!" yelled Harry, but the wizard was too quick, he ducked at the spell.

The wizard advanced on Harry, "Impedimenta!"

Harry was knocked back harshly against a wall and his glasses fell off, obscuring his vision.

"Accio glasses," he muttered hastily. His glasses zoomed on his face, cracks still blurred his view. With great difficulty Harry could see his opponent coming towards him with his wand erect.

"Protego!" Harry said instinctively. The back of his head started to throb in response to the hard impact of the wall. More blood was oozing out of his face.

The wizard only backtracked slightly, wanting to keep a safe distance from Harry. Before Harry knew it he was once again slammed into the wall, creating cuts and bruises into his flesh. Harry had quite enough of it.

He grabbed his wand tightly and pointed it at the wizard, and then lowered his aim to his opponent's feet. "Expulso!" he yelled.

The stage from under the wizard's feet exploded, sending him flying the opposite direction. He crashed into the nearby tables and landed on other wizards, creating a huge commotion. Harry ran over to see how much damage was done. From what Harry could see, the boy's face was cut and scraped and a thick trickle of blood came running down his nose. A look of pity crossed Harry's face for a fleeting moment before disappearing. He remembered that this is what they sign up for; he knew that something like this is to be expected.

"Expelliamus," Harry said softly. The opponents wand smoothly flew out of the wizard's hand and Harry caught it.

A bell had dinged in the corner of the platform, signaling the end of the match. Harry sighed in relief, and helped his opponent up. The boy wiped his face with his torn robes.

"Thanks, not bad spellwork," he commented. Harry gave a small laugh.

"That was nothing compared to yours," Harry said. The boy smiled. "What are you?"

"Blood-traitor," answered the boy, the slightest hint of pride played in his voice, "and yourself?"

"Half-blood. The name's Harry Potter," Harry held out his hand for the wizard to shake.

He accepted the gesture, giving a firm shake, "Nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Ernie Macmillan."

"Pleasure, Ernie." Harry smiled.

"Well, I'd go claim your money before someone like me takes it," Ernie said with a wink. Harry laughed lightly.

"See ya, around." Harry waved goodbye to the blond wizard and trudged over, exhausted, to the winner's table. Another witch there gave him his earnings, and it looked like some wizards bet high on his match. He decided that he'd count it later, right now all he wanted was to sleep.

Harry waited a good few minutes before the next portkey was ready to be used. Along with other wizards and witches, some with triumphant smiles on their faces and others with mild to severe looking wounds, Harry grabbed the portkey home. It wasn't long before he was at his destination. Harry summoned the block, and with great difficulty, levitated himself up to the window and climbed in.

Tired beyond imaginable, he dragged himself over to his bed and started to fall asleep, not even bothering to change his clothes.

"Harry?" a tiny voice whispered from the bed next to him. It was Teddy.

"Hmm?" Harry responded.

"Did you win?" the boy asked timidly yet eagerly.

"Yes, Teddy. Now go to bed."

Teddy grinned with pride has he pulled the rest of his blankets on top of his small body.

"I knew you would," he whispered, more to himself than to Harry. But Harry wouldn't have been able to hear him anyways, his mind off somewhere in the distance, dreaming.

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**So, I really hoped you liked that one! and I'm REALLY sorry about all the spelling and grammar mistakes. Hopefully there is none in this one! One last thing, I can sense that I'm going to run out of characters(mostly because I'm not sure what blood class they are from) and I'm terrible at creating OCs, so if any of you want to send me one, I'll fit them into my story! Thanks again for your reviews and follows. Keep them up!**

**-hsdc**


	3. They Are Next

**Hello again! I was a bit worried because there were no reviews for the last chapter, but we all get lazy sometimes! :) Here's the next one, the longest so far. Enjoy!**

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_They Are Next_

Ron hated being injured. He hated that he couldn't work, or really walk anywhere, or the fact that it left him bored alone in his home all day, waiting for his leg to heal. It had been an unfortunate accident in which is leg nearly was mauled off. Ron Weasley worked at Florish and Blotts as a employee, filling shelves with books and paper. It was two weeks ago when the new edition of The Book of Monsters had arrived, and they were more ferocious than ever. Ron was unloading them and placing them on the highest of shelves when the last book in the box fell out and attacked his leg. It took two other employees to pry it off. Needless to say, Ron was to stay home until the wound healed, which he hated.

So, being stuck home with his family, Ron started to notice a few strange things. And as he heard the sound of the Burrow's door slam shut, it got him thinking. Ron saw a flash of long bright hair.

"Ginny, where have you been?" Ron asked, turning over on the sofa to get a better glimpse of his sister's face.

"Just taking your shifts at the store like you asked me to," Ginny shrugged, not seeing an issue.

"I meant at night," Ron clarified. For the past few days, Ron noticed that Ginny wouldn't come home until late into the night, he was surprised that the Snatchers hadn't took her in yet, like so many of his friends. He wondered what she was doing, whether she was working another job, or maybe even snogging a bloke senseless-which Ron would kill him for later- he thought about all the possibilities.

Ginny's footsteps stopped gradually and looked around the room quickly. "What are you talking about?"

"You come home late," Ron stated simply, "Why?"

Ginny sighed loudly, it was very typical of him to be on her case, seeing that he had nothing else to do all day.

"It doesn't concern you, Ron. You're not Mum," Ron opened his mouth to say something but Ginny cut him off. "I'm not meeting up with a boy, if _that's_ what your concerned about," she said bluntly.

Ron, somewhat satisfied, slumped back unto the couch. Ginny rolled her eyes and walked up the stairs, but her brother stopped her once more.

"Ginny," he began.

Annoyed, Ginny turned around. "What?!"

"Blimey, I was just going to ask you a favor," Ron defended. Ginny lifted an eyebrow.

"Can you get me my-"

"You can get it yourself. You have a bad leg, your not paralyzed," she quipped. Ron tossed his head.

"Please, Gin? I'd do it for you," Ron asked again. This time Ginny scoffed.

"Like hell, the last time I asked you for something, you shrugged it off." Ron laughed.

"I just need the textbooks on my dresser and my clothes. C'mon Gin," Ginny gave Ron a hard glare, but obliged a few seconds later.

"Fine," she muttered, "but since when were you interested in school?" she realized. For as long as she can remember, school wasn't his forte, not that he wasn't good at magic.

Ron sat up a bit straighter on the sofa and pushed the blankets aside.

"Since, this bloody leg of mine isn't going to heal any time soon, I took it upon myself to self-teach... myself,"

Ginny started to smirk. Sometimes her brother was too much.

"Really?"

"No."

Ron looked up and saw Ginny smiling, he liked seeing her this way."I'm actually teaching someone else. I thinks it's called 'tutoring'."

The thought of Ron trying to show someone else how to properly brew a potion made her burst out laughing. But as she studied Ron's face, she found that he was not.

"You're joking, right?" Ginny asked, amazed. Ron deflated slightly.

"I wish I was."

As Ginny was about to apologize awkwardly, Fred and George came bounding into the room, taking over.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but did _our _ickle Ronny just say that he was going to _tutor_ someone?" George mocked a shocked expression.

Ron's ears were turning red. "Always the tone of surprise, isn't it?" he said bitterly.

"Oh, we wouldn't say 'surprise'," smirked George.

"Just one of shock, astonishment, and flabbergast," finished Fred, elbowing his brother.

Ginny was trying very hard not to crack a smile, it was times like these where she felt a little bad for Ron. They all knew Ron was capable of doing magic perfectly fine, they just gave him a hard time about it.

"So, who's the lucky kid?" asked Fred, deeply interested.

Ron shrugged and rolled up his sleeve. He wrote the name down and their address. Yesterday, Ron sent a letter to the address to confirm the session and this morning he received the response, it said yes. In half an our his "student" would be knocking on his door.

"Um," Ron said, craning his neck to read his messy writing " Hermione Granger."  
He looked up at his brothers and sister to see if the name rang a bell. The twins frowned and Ginny shook her head.

"Never heard of her. What class is she?" George asked, "not that it matters, " he added quickly. They were blood-traitors for a reason.

"I dunno. But she's coming here soon so I could help her out," he said. Ron thought back to the letter. She hadn't really given any information about herself, not her age, her class, nothing. Just that she wanted extra help and she'd pay for it, which didn't bother Ron at all.

"Poor girl," whispered Fred to his brother, which Ron heard.

"Hey, no one else wanted to help her, okay?" Ron's voice started to rise.

Ginny stepped in, "Well, I think that's great Ron."

Ron gave her a weird look, he was never use to praise from his sister. She cleared her throat and said, "I'll just go get you your stuff," and vanished up the stairs.

The twins clapped Ron's back and left the room as well, leaving Ron to his thoughts. The closer the clock ticked, the more nervous Ron got. He wasn't sure he could handle teaching someone else magic, he wasn't very confident at it himself. All he wanted was a few extra sickles or knuts to help his family out, and also to help Hermione Granger become a better witch. Ron bit his lip and his palms were starting to sweat. Maybe Fred and George and Ginny were right, maybe he wasn't cut out for this. He should probably cancel the session now before he embarrasses himself, especially in front of a girl. Ron was reaching for a quill and parchment when Ginny walked down stairs. The squeaking of the wood made him jump, causing ink to spill everywhere.

"What are you doing?" asked Ginny, concern crept into her voice. Ron grabbed his wand and muttered a spell. The ink vanished.

"Nothing," he said. Ginny stared at him with a look that Ron couldn't decode. She shook her head and handed Ron his clothes and textbooks.

"You better hurry, she'll be here soon," she advised. As soon as Ginny left the room, Ron changed into some suitable clothes. Seeing that it was much to late to cancel, he would have to stick it out. Ron brushed his hair and folded the blankets on the couch. Fred and George entered the living room again, with water jugs in their hands.

"Just in case you two get thirsty," Fred said, taking notice of Ron's confusion.

"Or if you set the house on fire!" smiled George happily. They left the room in good spirits, while Ron's optimism was dampening.

Before Ron had the chance to do anything else, there was a knock at the door.

"You'll get it!" shouted the twins. Ron stomach was doing flips and his brain was going crazy. He took a few deep breaths to clam himself down, which wasn't working very well.

"Hello?" said a voice, it was soft, "Anyone there?"

Mustering all his courage he had left, Ron limped his way over to the door and timidly turned the knob. As he pulled the door open, it didn't budge. The door often got stuck when it was cold outside.

"Hold on!" he called out to her. Ron kicked the door with his undamaged foot and it burst open.

In the door frame stood a girl, around the same age as him, with wild bushy hair. He couldn't see her face very clearly because she was wrapped head to toe in scarves and jackets.

"Er- come on in," he said awkwardly, gesturing her indoors. She nodded in appreciation and shuffled inside. Ron shut the door behind her, as Hermione began to defrost within the Burrow.

The Burrow was something Hermione couldn't quite explain. It was small and cozy yet big and loud. It smelled familiar to Hermione, which scared her because she had never been there before. There were photographs of the family all over the walls, and the house was lined with a certain comfortableness she couldn't explain. It was like...home. But she dismissed the feeling. Her home was far from here, one she would never return to. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts to look at her soon-to-be mentor. He was tall, almost a whole head taller than her, and his hair was such a bright red it seemed fake. But as she looked at the portraits, she realized it was their family trademark. And he was nervous, even though Hermione could tell he was trying very hard to hide it. She hastily unwrapped herself with the scarves and took of her coat.

"Um, let me get those for you," Ron offered. Ron mentally scolded himself for not being polite sooner. But his gesture caught Hermione off guard.

"Oh, thanks- I mean thank you," she stuttered. It was usual for another class to be so-kind-to her.

Ron fumbled with her coat and scarves for bit, she had quite a few. How she managed to walk with all the extra weight was a mystery to Ron. He scanned around for a place to put home but the coat hanger was already full. Ron settled for an armchair.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, extending a hand to Ron.

"Ron Weasley," Ron replied, giving her hand a firm shake. They locked eyes for the shortest of moments, but qiuckly looked away.

"So, why don't we start?" Ron said, avoiding Hermione's gaze. Hermione nodded excitedly.

Ron reached for his textbooks and placed it on his lap with a little to much force. He winced.

"Um, well, what would you like to know?" Ron asked as causally as he could. Hermione thought about the question, she certainly was the most advanced in her blood class level, but she wasn't sure _how_ much more advanced from the rest of the other blood classes.

She bit her lip thoughtfully, "What's the most difficult thing you've been taught?" It was a good start. Plus, the different blood classes used different books from one another.

"Oh," began Ron, and he searched his brain for the hardest spell he had yet faced. The spells themselves weren't the big problem, it became difficult when it had to be don non-verbally.

"Well, do you know how to do non verbal spells?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, but I'm guessing it's when you preform a spell without saying the incantation aloud. I've read about them."

"Yeah, pretty much," said Ron, very surprised at the perfect answer. He knew it was going to be hard to teach someone something he barely got the hang of, but she most likely wasn't going to master it on her first try. Most likely. With that on his mind, Ron flipped through the pages of his textbook. He stopped on page 49 and frowned, page 50 had fallen out somewhere. It was then that he became fully aware of what he was holding; an extremely battered hand-me-down book set. The pages we folded and yellow, the binding had broke, and pages were missing. Ron's ears began to burn crimson again.

"Sorry-it looks like the page fell off,"Ron apologized, he expected to see Hermione to be disappointed, but she showed no signs of it.

"That's alright. Honestly, I'm sure I can learn it some other way," Hermione said. The thought of doing magic without saying a word entralled her, it would make her life, and work, much more pleasant.

Although Hermione was ready to move on, Ron was not. Out of nowhere, Ron's wand lit up, his books began to enlarge at an alarming rate, and the carpet beneath them zoomed out of sight. The spontaneity of events caused Hermione to jump.

"Did you just do that?" she asked, itching to try it out herself.

Ron beamed, "Yeah, but it was nothing. Why don't you give it a go?"

Hermione withdrew her wand from her boot.

"Why do you keep it there?" Ron asked, he didn't see the point.

Hermione dropped her gaze to the floor. "I'm not allowed to carry it around all the time," she said quietly. Suddenly her head snapped back up, "You can't tell anyone, Ron. Please. Muggle-borns don't have that...privilege," her voice trailed off. "Purebloods," she muttered.

Ron smirked,"You can say that again,"

"Why? What are you?" she asked. The freckles on his face were starting to distract her. Now that she thought about it, there weren't many gingers in her class.

"Blood-traitor, " Ron replied proudly. Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he breathed. "So you don't think your superior than us?"

Ron leaned back in surprise. "Of course not." Hermione let that sink in her mind. It was a comforting fact.

"You know, it's against our codes of conduct to be together like this-I've read all codes of conduct too."

The words 'together like this' made Ron uncomfortable.

"My brothers are in the other room if this makes you feel-" Ron blurted.

Hermione laughed lightly. "No, I meant something else. I'm fine, thanks."

"Right-o, so why don't you try?" It took Hermione a moment to register what he was talking about.

"Oh, right."

"So, you sorta, have to focus a bit on-" Ron instructed, but before he got to finish, the water in the jugs were boiling.

"Bloody hell, that was fast! That's brilliant, Ravenclaw," Ron praised, slightly put out that she was much more skillful than he was. The water stopped boiling.

"Excuse me?" Hermione said, crossing her arms over her chest, "What did you just call me?" Hermione had never heard the term before, it did not sound pretty at all and this was coming from a girl who was degraded with words every day. She did not come here to be blindly insulted.

"What? Ravenclaw?" Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Oh, it's just a word that means 'smart', 'wise' you know.. that sort of stuff." Ron scratched the back of his head nervously, " 'Not sure where it came from originally, just sort of a compliment..."

"Well, thank you. Sorry," Hermione apologized, a tinge of pink started forming in her cheeks. Hermione had never been so embarrassed in her life.

Ron shrugged, " 'S all right."

From there they continued the session, and it did not take long for Ron to realize that Hermione had mastered everything he learned a long time ago. It was when Hermione was handing him a few knuts that he formed an idea.

"Keep them. I learned more from you than you did from me," he joked. "In fact, maybe you can even, you know, teach me..." Ron voice faltered.

"I don't see why not," Hermione said thoughtfully.

There was a loud squeaking of stairs and pattering feet as Ginny ran to her brother at the door.

Alarmed, Ron said, "Ginny? What's-"

Ginny raised a hand to silence her Ron and turned her attention towards Hermione.

"Look, I'm sure you're nice and everything from what I over heard, " Hermione smiled," but you need to leave. Now." Ginny said, in a serious and desperate manner.

Flustered, but taking notice of Ginny's urgent tone into account, Hermione grabbed her things as fast as she could.

"What the hell is-"

"The Agency is coming, I can see them from my window. She might get spotted here," Ginny said in a low voice.

"That's fine, I'll leave," Hermione said. "Thanks for the lesson anyway."

"Er- no problem," Ron replied, it was more like an embarrassment for him. And as if Hermione didn't impress Ron enough, she disapparated.

Ron, along with Ginny, stared in disbelief. "She just disapparated. I don't think the pureblood students even know how to do that yet!" Even Ginny had to admit it was an awing sight.

"So where are they?"Ron opened the door and peered over the side. Ginny pulled him back in and slammed the door shut. There was the echo of the slam, then the house be came eerily dead silent.

"I lied. They aren't coming," she whispered, it was something much worse.

Ron turned to face his sister. Ginny, a girl who never showed any signs of worry or fear, had the smallest of tears forming in her eyes. It scared Ron to the bone.

"Ginny," he said calmly and slowly, "What's going on?"

Ginny pushed a strand of her fierce colored hair behind her ear and stared at the floor. Out of her sweater pocket she pulled out an envelope. A black envelope. She held it out to Ron, who took it gingerly. There were wet stains on the front, Ron guessed Ginny had already cried, and she was fighting to hold the rest of it in. But Ron didn't open it. He didn't need to. His family had been receiving them every week now, it seemed. Strangely, this was the first time Ginny reacted to it in such a emotional way and it terrified him. But he knew what the black envelope meant. They all did.

Ron swallowed hard. "Who- who is it?" he asked, when in reality, he didn't want to know at all.

Ginny lifted her head to look her brother in they eye, but she did not have the heart to do it. She hastily wiped away her tears and focused her vision on the envelope.

"It's- it's Mr. and Mrs.- Longbottom," she finally managed to choke out. She was doing her very best to hold herself together. "They took them."

Ron felt like someone had dropped a boulder on his chest and left it there. They took the Longbottoms. Their closest childhood neighbors, the one's they saw every morning and afternoon, the one's who would babysit them when they were younger. The family that they invited over for Thanksgiving and Christmas and birthdays. One of his only best friends, Neville's, parents were kidnapped. Neville was all alone. Without a Mum or Dad there for him. They were gone along with the others. Ron never thought Mr. and Mrs. Longbottom's time was so soon. Ron couldn't help but wonder where was Neville now.

Ron wasn't responding to the news, he was just staying still, staring down at the letter, completely lost. Ginny advanced on him.

"Ron!" Still no answer. She grabbed the envelope Ron dazed at and threw it across the room. She sunk her nails into the arms of his shirt and shook him fiercely. Ron's body couldn't feel the pain, it was numb anyways...

"RON! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!" Ginny screamed. Ron could see she was on the verge of a meltdown, and Ginnys' never have meltdowns.

Ron looked away, he couldn't stand meeting his sister's frantic stare.

"Yeah," a clap of thunder rolled over the Burrow, rain drizzled steadily, "it means Mum and Dad are next.

* * *

**Hope you liked it! ps I really need some OC's, so if you want to submit any please PM me and they will definetly be a part of the story (I suck at OC's). Also, it would absolutely make my day if you reviewed! Did you hate it? Like it? Want to see something else happen? Tell me! (it would make an excellent birthday present!) Stay tuned and thanks for reading! :)**

**-hsdc  
**


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